“Divine are your honors, oh Mother of the Gods and Nurturer of all,
Yoke your swift chariot drawn by bull slaying lions and join our prayers, O mighty Goddess.
You bring things to pass, oh many-named and revered one.
You are Queen of the sky,
In the cosmos, yours is the throne,
The throne in the middle,
Because all the world is yours,
And you give gentle nourishment to mortals.
Of you were born Gods and men,
You hold sway over the rivers and all the seas.
Hestia is one of your names.
We call you the bringer of prosperity,
Because you bestow on people all manner of blessings.
Come to our rites, oh Queen Whom The Drum Delights,
All-Taming Savior of Phrygia,
Consort of Kronos,
Honored Child of Sky,
Frenzy-Loving Nurturer of Life!
Joyously and graciously visit our deeds of piety.”

  • From the Orphic Hymn to the Mother of the Gods

Hail Kybele, Mother of the Gods, Mother of All,
Who loves us as part of Her,
Who holds the chains on incarnation,
To whom our bodies return on death.
Hail Kybele, of the pine cone and pomegranate,
Each bearing the seeds of a thousand trees that drop a thousand fruits with a thousand seeds of a thousand trees,
Like you, Mother of All.

Hail to Kybele, Mistress of the Natural World,
Giver of Life and Health,
Who feeds all.
Hail to you, beloved champion of my people,
The people of the mirror,
The people who know their nature,
Transgender people, nonbinary people, 
Our champion and protector, who loves us dearly, fiercely, and gently.

I thank you for my body,
I thank you for my life,
I thank you for my health,
I thank you for my sustenance,
I thank you for my death,
I thank you for my rebirth.

I was a bull, ring in my nose and yoke around my neck,
Till the lioness within me killed the bull that I was,
To feed myself and the world,
To let me dance free,
To sing for you,
To dance and whirl for you,
To play the bullroarers, the rattle, the tambourine, the drum for you,
To feed you blood and fruit,
And to be open to your blessings,
And the reminder that there is no separation, 
Between myself and nature,
Between our selves and you.
May I never be that bull again.

I have cast away the parts that wronged me,
Crying as Attis did, as the Galli did, “Cursed be the parts that ruined me!”
I fed them to you,
Cutting myself free from them that I might be whole in myself and in you.

Oh blessed mother, wild and life-bringing,
Loving and holy,
Ancient and wise,
Stern to those who try to defy Her,
Fierce to those who harm Her children,
Loving to those who lie in Her lap and eat of Her fruit and drink of Her milk and blood,
May I never lose you in myself,
Forget you in the world,
May I always walk with you and remember that the branches bend to feed me at your will,
The lions rise to guard me at your word,
The valley opens for me with your gesture,
And the cave forever calls me home to you.

May I always walk with you,
Your lioness,
Your bee,
Your fruit,
Your tree,
Your daughter dressed in red,
May I taste no death that is not a return to your loving arms,
May I always remember that there is No Separation,
And see you and know you in all things.
May I ever grow in harmony with you.

Hail Kybele, Mother of the Gods and Nurturer of all.

β™₯οΈπŸ¦β›°οΈπŸ¦β™₯️
πŸπŸ„πŸ¦πŸπŸ¦…
🎢πŸ₯πŸͺ˜πŸ₯πŸŽΆ
🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸
πŸŽπŸπŸ‘πŸŠπŸ
β™₯οΈπŸ¦β›°οΈπŸ¦β™₯️

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